Night of the Doctor
by BritishAlien
Summary: The Doctor tries to save Cass from a crashing gun ship. A novelisation of the mini episode 'Night of the Doctor'. If you have not seen it yet, go check it out. It's seriously amazing. Hope you enjoy. xxx


Night of the Doctor

Hello everyone! This has been clawing away at me since I saw the minisode! (oh my giddy aunt isn't it just the best thing ever) It's just the script put into prose. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything written below. (Blooming well wish I did though :P )

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There was just nothing. Nothing recognisable. Nothing to touch or feel or hear. Wherever the Doctor was, it was nowhere. There was just the sense of ending like when the lights of a huge warehouse slowly shut down from one side of the room before leaving you drifting in darkness. Moving closer and closer until your eyelids turn heavy and everything has fallen into silence. The impending black void had arrived and the Doctor was in it and of all the things he found himself left to be aware of, he knew that wherever he was, he was content. All those years ago, when this version of him was first starting out, Grace had told him that death was nothing to be scared of. She was right. It wasn't.

Suddenly, something began to announce itself to his senses. There was a pain, like the tip of a spike was being dragged slowly up his spine. It started at the very base, near his hips and slowly reached the larger vertebrae that constituted the main body of his back. As it rose higher, it felt like the spike was being pushed deeper into the flesh. At first lightly touching the skin, only for it to pluck away and begin to tear him apart bit by bit, layer by layer, cell by cell. He tried screaming to allow the pain to run free. He needed it to escape and grant him some kind of relief, but no sound leapt from the Doctor's throat. The silence gobbled it up before it had a chance to leave. The pain was thrust back inside and filled the Doctor's body, which he was now aware of. Every muscle was being teased into unwilling coercion by the tip of the spike as it climbed and came to rest by his neck. It hovered lazily around the back of his head, like it was choosing a place to aim for. The tip pinpointed a spot near the top of his skull. He could feel the nib tickling its way through the hair until it found the skin layer. It tapped at his head as if it were knocking to see if anyone was home. The Doctor tried to lift his hands to bat the sensation away but he couldn't. He felt like they were tied to the ground and no matter what he did, he could not wrench himself free. His focus on whatever was binding him still however was knocked aside, when he felt the tip begin to grow. Almost like a natural, living thing, the small dot began to multiple and grow in size around his head. The shape swarmed and moulded itself around his skull and he was unable to act on it. It felt soft against his scalp; like silk only colder. Slowly, the feeling gained form and when it had finished, it just sat tightly grasping his head. If the Doctor hadn't been mistaken, it felt like a frozen hand was placed on top of his skull. It started to move. The hand caressed his head, running its fingers through his already messy hair. Then, without warning, the hand grasped tightly. The Doctor tried to reach up again, now able to move his hands from their invisible tethers, and stop the silken hand, but he could not find it. His arms waved through nothing as they tried to stop the ghostly hand tearing his hair out. With one last tug, he felt the force like a wave drag him bodily backwards and back to feeling.

'Cass!'

He crashed into the perceivable world, hitting his back on something hard and solid. His head had snapped up and blood zoomed to his brain; clouding his thoughts. He had no idea where he was, but he could discern some shapes moving in front of him. They slowly became solid until he was aware that he was not alone. There was a group of figures stood in front of him and he could sense many more standing in the close vicinity. There was one who stood out. She had more of a dominant presence about her than the others. She was knelt down close to him, like she wanted to help. Well, like she wanted something.

'If you refer to your companion, we are still attempting to extract her from the wreckage.' The woman's voice was calming; reassuring. The Doctor remembered. He'd crashed landed. He had tried to avoid it but, like normal, whatever he tried to avoid came up and caught him in a chokehold. But he remembered something else. Something crawling its way around the outskirts of his memory. He cornered the thought and trapped it. Ah! He had not been alone. He had not crash landed. _They_ had crash landed.

'She wasn't my companion.' He reeled off. His voice filled by regret at his own use of the past tense. He had tried so hard to save her. Anything he could do to prevent unnecessary deaths. Yet she had pulled away from him. Repulsed by his very touch. This was what the Time War had done. Not only did it taint those who fought for it, but those associated by species alone. A discrimination against those who wanted to see the end of the damn war as much as the rest of the universe. The Doctor had become a victim of the war. Cass had not been the first to pull away from him or look down her nose at him. A mighty race had been brought to its most base desires in pursuing what it thought was right. To save creation. Was it worth it for all the lives it would cost?

'She's almost certainly dead.' The woman declared. Her use of the present tense was almost hopeful, but the Doctor knew that hope never granted itself to those who did not deserve it. The Doctor nodded in acknowledgement. Another life added to his tally. 'No-one could survive that crash.'

'I did.' The Doctor spat. His eyes focused on the woman. Surveying his situation, he became ever more aware of his surroundings and the world he had been dragged back into. Not by choice though. He would have rather stayed in the nothing.

'No.' The figure said. Her features had finally solidified. A woman dressed in red ceremonial robes with long, brown hair. The Doctor looked to the figures that stood behind her and found four similarly dressed women, all holding two smoking goblets each. 'We restored you to life, but it's a temporary measure. You have a little under four minutes.' They had brought him back to life. Why? There had to be a reason.

'Four minutes? That's ages. What if I get bored or need a television? A couple of books? Anyone for chess? Bring me knitting.'

'You have so little breath left. Spend it wisely.' Her words were piercing. He had very little time left and they needed him. The Doctor looked closer into the woman's pleading eyes and saw something he recognised. An image flashed before his eyes. A memory. Lifetimes ago seemed to be pushing their way through to the present.

'Hang on. Is that you?' The Doctor started to push himself up. The very force was agonising but he pushed through it. Now that he was being forced to feel, he was damn well going to feel every last muscle bending under the weight he had constructed for himself. The burden he had to carry had to be endured.

He turned to see that he had been slumped against an altar. Another memory swarmed into sight. 'Am I back on Karn?' He spun round to find more young women dressed in the blood red silk robes. 'You're the Sisterhood of Karn. Keepers of the Flame of Utter Boredom.' He smirked. He saw a few of the sisters visibly cringe. His jokes were never appreciated on Karn.

'Eternal life'

'That's the one.' The Doctor started pacing in front of the altar. Inspecting his surroundings with every sideways glance and every uncertain step. Regaining the feeling in his legs as he walked, he continued to rebuild his presence in the world. It's funny how one can so easily fall from the world, but climbing back into it was always far harder.

'Mock us if you will, but our elixir can trigger your regeneration.' This pricked up the Doctor's hearing. 'Bring you back. Time Lord science is elevated here on Karn. The change doesn't have to be random.' Why would they want to trigger his regeneration? Why would _he _want to trigger his regeneration? Times had been difficult, but if anything, he felt he was carrying the burden of who he was so that others would not have to. The woman gestured to the goblet bearers behind her. 'Fat or thin? Young or old? Man or woman?'

'Why would you do this for me?'

'You've helped us in the past.'

'You were never big on gratitude.'

'The war between the Daleks and the Time Lords threatens all of reality. You are the only hope left.' If the Doctor was the only hope, then there was no hope left. He had avoided the war so far. Kept out of it to the best of his ability, and yet its far reaching spectre trapped every Time Lord cursed with that title.

'It's not my war; I will have no part in it.'

'You can't ignore it forever.'

'I help where I can. I will not fight.' He was the Doctor. He knew the Time Lords nor the Daleks could win this war. He knew he was not the man to bring it to its end. He could never be that man. He helped people.

'Because you are the "good man" as you call yourself?'

'I call myself the Doctor.'

'It's the same thing in your mind.'

'I'd like to think so.' Back when he left Gallifrey, he had set out to escape. He had been bored and no longer agreed with the ways of life subjected to him and the rest of Time Lord kind. Escaping with Susan had been the best thing he could have done at the time. The first lives he had saved. But as time spiralled on, he had built up a name for himself. The name had become a reason to live and to keep on fighting. If no other being was going to right the wrongs that time placed on people and planets then he had to step into the fold and do it himself. He had filled a vacancy in his own view of the universe. Nothing more. But over the years that place had been acknowledged by the rest of the universe and people he had met and known. They had spread his name across the stars and now that name was his burden. He had set out to escape and because of that and what he had become, he could feel himself being pulled back into it all. The Doctor could never be free from his own narrative. When something like that has grown so dominant, it can seldom be reeled in. He was cursed by his own creation.

'In that case, Doctor. Attend to your patient.' She turned her head and gestured to the Doctor as two of the sisters carried the broken body of Cass into the chamber. They laid her down on the altar before taking their place amongst their sisters. The Doctor withdrew his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and started running the device over her body. He checked for vital signs but all were silent. Cass was dead.

'You're wasting your time. She is beyond even our help.' The Doctor knew that Cass was beyond anybody's help, but it wasn't going to stop him from trying. Even in this void, where war saps every last vestige of hope and happiness from the universe, he knew that miracles could happen. The Doctor placed his sonic screwdriver in the inside pocket of his jacket. He turned away from the body. Thankful that she was in a better place now. A place where the war could not touch her.

'She wanted to see the universe.' Just as he had done all those years ago.

'She didn't miss much. It's very nearly over.' One never stops to think that every day we experience, every minute that we reflect on, every second has been spent. But now as Daleks and Time Lords tore the universe to shreds, time literally was running to its close. Burning away like a candle, the wax dripping down and blotting every minute experienced into tainted memory. Time was running out and soon there would be none left. In a war where time was concerned, it was only a matter of when it would be brought into the battle.

'I could've saved her. I could have got her off, but she wouldn't listen.' He sounded like he was blaming her. He wasn't. He couldn't. Not now that what remained lay in the same room as him. Just hanging onto his field of awareness. He had played a part in her death just as much as she had in teleporting her crew away. He was as much, if not more, to blame than she. He would gladly carry that burden for her. That brave girl. Braver than he.

'Then she was wiser than you. She understood there was no escaping the Time War. You are a part of this, Doctor, whether you like it or not.' The sister made it very clear to him that there was no turning back. He was condemned to be a part of something he had no wish of touching.

'I would rather die.' He said, sincerely. He would have rather remained in that nothing than take part in the war. He wasn't the man to end this.

'You're dead already. How many more will you let join you?' This was true. The sisters had only restored him to life for a few minutes and even that time was slipping from his grasp. He could feel the effects of the elixir beginning to disappear. The pain that he had felt earlier around his ribcage was becoming more apparent. It felt like each rib was slowly cracking. Everything ached and his limbs felt heavy, like they were dragging him back down to the floor. He was slowly being pulled back to the nothing. He would soon be joining Cass in ever-lasting sleep. A fate he so very much deserved. He looked to the girl. Bruised, burnt and broken. Just another casualty of the Time War. Hang on. "Just?" No such thing as "just". 'If she could speak, what would she say?' The woman whispered.

'To me? Nothing. I'm a Time Lord. Everything she despised.' He reached his hand out and stroked the hair out of Cass' face. Her skin was cold. No more warmth and no more life were afforded to her. If only he could have saved her, then he might have felt like his conscientious objection from the war was half worth it. Even with those he had been able to help, there were several more who he had lost and let down. 'She would beg you to help, as we beg you to help now.' The woman moved in closer. The Doctor looked around to see that her sisters were copying her. All eyes rested on him. A man with a price on his head. How much would it cost him? 'The universe stands on the brink. Will you let it fall?' The woman again gestured to the goblets. 'Fast or strong? Wise or angry? What do you need now?'

Then everything seemed to stop. The Doctor was not a name for the good man anymore. It was a name tainted by the race that he belonged to and the history he had created for it. Nobody would put their faith in him unless they had to. The sisters knew what he had to do to save the universe. He looked at them all once more and then turned his head back to Cass. He realised that the Doctor was not the man to win the war. This version of him would not fight, but another version could. Another man could walk from Karn and into battle. No titles or burdens would sit on that man's shoulders except those he placed on himself. Nobody would know who he was, but they would see what he was capable of doing. That man had the capacity to stop everything. His purpose would be to bring the end of the war no matter what the cost. That man could save everyone. The Doctor knew what he had to do.

The Doctor reached down and held Cass' ammunition belt between his hands. He felt the burnt leather. Caressing the material and feeling its weight. He held the object up, scanning it.

'Warrior.' He announced with a whisper.

'Warrior?' The woman signalled her acknowledgement and went off to grab one of the goblets being held by one her sisters. The Doctor began to resign himself to what lay in front of him. As his own time was running out, every part of his body was crying out to him, telling him that he could do no more and did not need to prove himself. He fought against the urge to just drop. He had a duty to become the man that would bring peace to the universe.

'I don't suppose there's any need for a Doctor anymore. Make me a warrior now.' He watched as the woman held the goblet in her hands. The elixir that granted life would trigger his death. He was going to commit suicide so that a better man might live. He remembered what Cass had said when he had surprised her at the controls of the crashing gun ship_: _

'_I don't need a doctor'_

Although at that point she had not been referring to him, she had been right. She didn't need a doctor. Nobody did anymore. The woman came up and stood in front of the Doctor. She held the goblet out in front of her.

'I took the liberty of preparing this one myself.' The Doctor hesitated. Just for a second before gripping the warm goblet in his hands. He studied the glass as the woman stepped back. In this vassal swam the hopes of the entire universe. If the man he became did end the war, if he could bring peace and harmony to this rotten universe, every man, woman, child and other would be able to live without fear of the war dropping into their world and ripping it to pieces. They would never have to be afraid of the Grandfather Paradox or the Nightmare Child whispering harrowing tales in their dreams. They would never have to be frightened of this never-ending poison that sapped every ounce of life from a once vibrant universe. And the Doctor could help to bring that about. All he had to do was die.

'Get out! GET OUT!' He wanted to be alone. In the past he had been glad of company when he changed. Sometimes his companions had made the change seem smoother or had helped him regain who he was. This time, he needed to be alone. The man who would wake up was not going to be the Doctor. He would not be the man who left Gallifrey all those centuries ago with his grand-daughter. He was going to be something new. Purposefully born into war. So much responsibility would hang on the shoulders of the man who awoke to hell. But the Doctor no longer had any choice. He had made up his mind. He was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. Give up everything he had ever stood for or hoped he had stood for. The sisters began to file out, except for she who had granted him his death. 'All of you.' He said quieter. The Doctor summed up the goblet as he saw the sister begin to leave. 'Will it hurt?' he called. After a short silence she replied.

'Yes.' It was what he had expected. It was just never fun to hear.

'Good.' Then he began to prepare himself for death. Here it was. Something he had tried to avoid for so long. He had run by Death's side for so long, taunting and teasing her, but here he was. About to embark upon the inevitable.

His thoughts turned to those he had travelled with. He remembered every smile. Every happy adventure. They were what this was all about. All those he had known and lost. 'Charley, C'rizz, Lucie, Tamsin, Molly…friends, companions I've known, I salute you. And Cass…I apologise.' One last look at the brave woman before turning to face Death in the eye. 'Physician heal thyself.'

He brought the goblet to his lips. The sensation was warm as it ran down his throat, but the elixir was freezing to the touch. As he drained the last drops, he could feel it, writhing like a lamprey, in the pit of his stomach. The muscles in his hands turned numb and the glass slipped from his grasp.

The movement in his stomach started to spread across every nerve; every cell. Every part of his body felt like it was being wound up like a spring. Tighter and tighter until finally the cog would move no more. The force was released from every cell and the energy surged back to his stomach. The Doctor yelled as the impact hit his stomach with the force of a supernova. He bent double as a fire ignited itself at his very core. He could see his hands were glowing. It was time. It was happening. The Doctor would not wake up. Indeed, he may never wake up again. A different person would fall into the world and take his place for better or for worse. The only thing the Doctor could think was: _Are you worthy? _

…

His eyes flickered open. The light of the candles that flooded the chamber piercing his vision. His eye sight began to clear and he saw a face he recognised. The woman from the chamber knelt down by his side.

'Is it done?' She asked before pulling away. The new man pushed himself up from the floor and dragged himself onto his feet. His balance was a little unstable but that would right itself in time. The clothes he stood in were a little too large for him, but only just. He looked down at Cass and pulled the gun belt around his shoulders, tightening the slightly loose clothing to his new form. He stroked her cheek. The Doctor had died saving her and now it was his turn to start what the Doctor had finished. He looked around the chamber only to catch a faint whisper of a reflection in the stone work. He moved closer to it to get a closer look at this new man he had become. The hair was longer and unkempt but the same colour. He was younger, much younger. The face of the boy sent to do a man's job. There was always something different, but this time he felt a real departure from the man he used to be. He looked himself right in the eye. It was time.

'Doctor no more.'

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Hope you enjoyed.

Thank you for reading.

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